


Cheek to Cheek

by Monsterunderkilt



Series: The Manse [19]
Category: Actor RPF, Celebrities - Fandom, RPF - Fandom, Real Person Fanfic - Fandom, Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26981638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monsterunderkilt/pseuds/Monsterunderkilt
Summary: In which there is a softshoe seduction
Series: The Manse [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1209447
Kudos: 1





	Cheek to Cheek

I’m in the office adjacent to the master bedroom, wrapping up my daily blogging when I suddenly hear some scraping and tapping sounds coming from outside. I turn off my classical Pandora station and get up to peek out the window. From this odd diagonal angle I can just see the edge of the bedroom terrace with its old ivy vines twisting up the wall and parts of the stone railing. I watch and listen for a minute, and notice a sing-song voice accompany the other sounds. Out of the corner of my eye, I see an arm swing out, then another, whirling after one another.

Sneaking out of the office, I enter the bedroom as quietly as possible. I catch a glimpse of the activity through the French doors left open to the increasingly pleasant weather. I duck behind the tall bed and slowly gaze over the comforter, smiling at the sight: Sir Ken, in an undershirt, cuffed trousers, and shiny patent leather tap shoes, is singing softly to himself and tapping out a rhythm. If Fred Astaire himself were twirling about out there, I couldn’t be more surprised (and pleased). I watch him do a little more softshoe to his own humming, then I crawl over the bed and swiftly tiptoe to the edge of the door, leaning against the jamb. I stand in full sight for half a minute before he turns around and startles at my presence.

“Oh, bloody hell, Cait,” he says, smiling even as he holds his hand to his chest. “Best not make a habit of sneaking up on old men like that.”

I smirk as I step toward him. “Oh, I have first hand knowledge that your heart can handle a lot more than that.” He straightens, breathing deeply with his exertions as I glide up to him and place my hand over his heart. “Feels strong enough to me,” I whisper as I gaze up at him through half-lidded eyes. “What are you practicing?”

“Oh, just... doing some old routine from one of my films. Keeping in shape.”

I raise my eyebrows. My own heart quickens, remembering. “Mmmmm, care to show me?”

He takes up my hand and pulls me closer, his other hand at my waist. “If you’ll join me.”

“No, no, no, I can’t tap dance, are you kidding me?” I say, my face hot.

Ken grins and holds me against him despite my protests. “I’ve seen you dance before. You’re too modest.”

“Oh please, belly dancing is nothing like what you do, I couldn’t—”

“You have a sense of rhythm and timing—”

“No, I’m no good at ballroom stuff—”

“Cait,” he says firmly, squeezing my hand. He fixes me with a stare. “Follow my lead. We can do this.”

My breath catches in my throat, my blood pounding through my ears. _That must be his Director voice. It’s like some Bene Gesserit trick. And it’s sexy AF._

“Heaven,” he begins softly, nodding his head, “I’m in heaven... and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak...”

Before I even notice my jaw has dropped, he’s already whisked me across the terrace with a few simple steps. To my ears, our footsteps merely register as tiny taps on the floor. There’s no friction, as if we’re swirling on a giant air hockey table.

_And I seem to find the happiness I seek... when we’re out together dancing cheek to cheek..._

We float all the way to one corner of the terrace, then turn and go backwards to the other, then turn again to spin together to the center until he grabs my waist with both hands and lifts me up for a high spin. He drops me down again with such deftness and grace I want to swoon at his skill, but he carries me along...

_Dance with me, I want my arm about you, and the charm about you, will carry me through to—_

_Heaven... I’m in heaven..._

He dips me, making my lovesick head more dizzy, but he holds me there a moment, hanging in the crook of his steady arm. I close my eyes as I feel his other arm wrap around me and pull me back up. My feet don’t even touch the floor as he clutches me against him, finally still enough for a slow-motion kiss. I unconsciously wrap one leg up around his hip and simply submit to his clearly experienced direction.

Then there’s clapping in the distance.

I emerge from the kiss as if from under water. Thankfully my now putty-like body is still buttressed by Ken’s strong arms. Bleary-eyed, I turn my head to squint at Stephen, who is standing in the doorway, applauding joyfully.

“Congratulations, Sir,” Stephen says, without an ounce of contempt or jealousy. “Achievement unlocked.”

“Pardon?” Ken says.

Stephen laughs, placing his hands on his hips. “You’ve figured out just the right button mashing combination to transform her into a blob of clay. She’s yours to mold as you please now.”

Ken and I blink at each other. An involuntary shudder twitches my entire body for a second, and I smile dumbly at him. I touch my cheek to his as if in a drunken stupor and sing “Cheek to cheek...”

“Oh God, you’re not kidding,” Ken says to Stephen. “It’s like a drug.”

Stephen nods and bows. “We’ve all made the attempt in our own ways, and it took us varying amounts of time and effort, but boy when it hits her... it slaps.” Stephen bows and salutes, then blows a kiss in my direction. “I’ll leave you to it, Madam. Sir. Good night.”

Ken tries to prop me up on my own two feet, but my head lolls. I am drunk with his charm, infatuation spreading as an infection throughout my entire body. Next thing I know, he’s swept me into his arms to carry me to the bed. He places me down on top of the comforter and sits on the edge beside me, checking my forehead for temperature, but I am fine. More than fine.

“Take me, Sir, I am yours,” I say, weakly lifting my arm to pat his chest. I smile languidly even as his face creases with concern. I blink and purse my lips. “Come to bed.”

“Not when you’re doped, my dear. It isn’t cricket.”

“It isn’t tiddlywinks either,” I mumble, trying to recall where the hell I heard that quote.“You seduced me fair and square.”

Ken sighs. His hand moves from my head to my cheek, then one finger gingerly twirls one of my curls. He slowly smiles, then narrows his eyes and leans down, my hand catching his chin to bring him home for another heart-melting liplock I had been craving all day.


End file.
